Chocolate
by Bishie Huntress
Summary: Ed walks in on Mustang making out with - err... eating! - a chocolate bar.


**AN:** So, I was going to write something amusing, but I picked a somewhat sad song (a lovely cover of Imagine Dragons' "Demons", sung by Boyce Avenue and Jennel Garcia). I opened a new Word document and went to write something serious, and somehow, this happened instead. You'll have to tell me how it turned out!

Oh! And this is dedicated to my brother, who is constantly bugging me to write more, and jokingly teases me about writing an Edstang. (And, as it happens, avoids chocolate like the plague.) I said I'd write one for you! Mwahaha! XD

* * *

Roy Mustang was eating a chocolate bar. _Chocolate_. Ed did his best not to stare, but the colonel was practically making a show of eating the candy, savoring each bite and even going so far as to lick off his fingers. Ed's stomach twisted with want.

The colonel hadn't noticed Ed just yet; the inner door was open, so Ed hadn't been able to kick it open. The young man watched as Mustang popped the last piece into his mouth and wrapped his lips around his finger and thumb one at a time to clean them off. He pressed his finger to the desktop and raised it to his mouth, flicking out a pink tongue to lick off a tiny piece of chocolate. Ed swallowed hard and tried not to drool.

Mustang looked up suddenly and caught Ed staring. He froze like a deer caught in the headlights. Ed shook himself and stepped into the room.

"I – uhh…" Ed cleared his throat. "I brought my report."

Cheeks dusted the faintest pink, Mustang held out a hand. "Ahm… thanks," he said.

Ed handed him the report, then stood there awkwardly. He'd been so ready to let Mustang have it, but he'd lost the argument somewhere about the time he'd realized the man was eating _chocolate_.

Mustang stared blankly at the report for a full five minutes before Ed spoke up.

"It's not gonna read itself," he said, a trace of annoyance threading through his voice.

The colonel started. "Yes, of course." He lifted the first page and stared at the second.

Ed suppressed a growl. They were getting nowhere, fast. Plopping into the chair placed this side of Mustang's desk, he threw his feet up onto the desk and folded his hands behind his head.

"What's the matter?" he asked, smirking. "Cat got your tongue? Or is it just the candy?"

Mustang's cheeks darkened. "Not at all," he said smoothly. "I'm simply trying to decipher this chicken scratch. Really, Fullmetal, is this what you call a report?"

Ed dropped his feet to the floor and sat up, a retort on the tip of his tongue, and stopped short. Mustang still wasn't looking at him. He peered closer. Was _The_ Roy Mustang embarrassed? Wait, was that…?

Ed stood suddenly, chair scraping back along the floor, and Mustang's eyes shot up to meet his when Ed leaned over the desk.

"Fullmetal, what—" The colonel stopped short as Ed licked the end of his index finger and reached out, tracing it carefully along his lower lip. Then Ed straightened and sucked the finger into his mouth. His eyes closed, and he exhaled a soft moan of happiness. Roy Mustang stared.

"Should we leave the two of you alone?" Lieutenant Havoc asked from the open doorway, his eyes twinkling teasingly.

Ed and Roy both jumped about ten feet, having forgotten there was even a world around them. The rest of Mustang's team was assembled in the doorway with Havoc, watching with varying expressions of amusement.

Mustang shut his mouth and set Ed's report down on the desk. He reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out his gloves. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled them on one by one, making sure each finger was snug.

Havoc raised his hands. "Hey, now. I didn't mean anything by it. I just—" He broke off as Mustang raised a hand. "Run!" he shouted, and they all scattered, save Hawkeye.

She just stared Mustang down, one hand on the butt of her revolver. "Shall we see who is the faster shot, sir?" the Hawk asked.

Roy paled considerably. "Of course not, Lieutenant. Violence in the workplace is frowned on."

Hawkeye just gave him a knowing look and turned to leave. "We'll just give you a minute," she said, pulling the door closed behind her.

There was another long, awkward silence. Ed sat heavily, missing the chair entirely and falling on the floor. "Was it just my imagination," he said slowly, "or did Hawkeye just _wink_ at me?"

"Trick of the light," Mustang said dazedly. "Had to be."

"Right." It was another moment before Ed pulled himself to his feet. "I'll just… I'll just be going. Uhh, now." He gestured to the closed door, but hesitated, not wanting to face Mustang's team just yet.

"Sure," Mustang said, staring at his desktop. "Listen, Ed…" He stopped, looking up. "I – uhm… I don't want you to get the wrong impression…"

_Wrong impression?_ Ed frowned.

"It's just… I mean, I'm your commanding officer and much older than you and I'm really flattered and everything but there can't be anything and – "

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Ed said, holding up a hand. Surprisingly, Mustang shut up. "What are you babbling about? What do you – " Suddenly he got it, and his face _burned_. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks and ears.

"No no no," he said, backpedaling quickly and tripping over the chair. He picked himself up and continued his backward journey, shaking his head violently. "No no _no!_"

"Ed, the couch…"

Too busy trying to deny the horrible images filling his head, Ed didn't hear his commanding officer and tripped again, falling onto the couch. He stared blankly at Roy's chest. Finally his eyes focused and he looked up at Mustang helplessly.

"I just wanted some chocolate!"


End file.
